Fevered
by Ivory Novelist
Summary: COMPLETEA plot bunnyfluff and angst, u know the drill....lots of AL friendship....
1. Default Chapter

Fevered  
  
A/n: Just a fluffy little plot bunny packed with angst..this a one shot thing, don't really expect a continuation...For once, it is Estel who is ill..Inspired by Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 14 in C sharp minor Op. 27 No. 2 " Moonlight" Adagio sostenuto.  
  
Disclaimer: not mine, dur...Tolkien rules.  
  
~*~  
  
" Estel."  
  
He heard his name being whispered like a dying breath, a last hope, a heart's outcry of love. It was the soundless wind of an Elf's voice, so beautiful it was, like a melancholy piece of music. It reached him even in the depths of the darkness that he had sunk into, black waters that only blurred into gray as he surfaced. He wanted so much to breathe, to leave his fevered, dreamless sleep. He wanted to answer the blessed being who called for him, who had brought him this far up toward the light again. Yet no matter how he tried, there he lingered in the shades of gray, with the dimmed light above him, so close yet so far.  
  
" Estel."  
  
It was the murmur of a desperate soul, imploring him to return to the light. He felt himself rise farther in his watery grave, nearer to the light, to air. He shut his gray eyes and a morbid image of the fairest being in all the world bent over someone's bed in grief appeared unto him. The being was an Elf - a prince, and someone who he thought he knew, yet could not remember. And thus the Elf remained this elusive, exquisite creature wrought in a vision of dejected color. The Elf's silken tresses of silver-gold hung over his slender shoulders, like a veil that his anguished face. Yet he could see past the Elf's veil, could see through the curtain of hair to the Elf's face contorted with sorrow and with bright eyes closed, pressed shut. The tears fell swiftly, like silver pearls of mithril. The Elf's lips quivered and the lithe body was rigid and trembling, as if in pain. Yet no torment could surpass the agony of his soul.  
  
He wanted so much to go unto the morose creature and bring solace to him. Yet he could not. The Elf only had the crestfallen music that haunted the room to act as understanding compassion in his despondency.  
  
He opened his eyes once more, aware of the aching in his chest.  
  
" Estel."  
  
He was floating ever nearer to the twilight. Finally, he reached it, and, in exhaustion, his eyes of lenient gray truly did open. He looked up into the bittersweet, yet always-fair face of his beloved brother in heart, Legolas Thranduilion. The Elf offered a faint smile, yet even in his current, gravely ill state, Estel noticed the gleam of unshed tears in the pair of blue eyes he loved so deeply. He was glad the prince had been the one to greet him when he had woken up. Estel let his eyes slip closed again as Legolas slowly ran a melting ice cube over the ranger's parted lips. His eyes glistened as he looked upon the face of his most endeared friend that gleamed with the sheen of sweat in the glow of the bedside candle, a result of the merciless fever that raged through the mortal's body. Legolas tenderly stroked the young man's face, brushing away tendrils of damp, dark hair and running his hand smoothly down the side of his best friend's face. He did this in such a manner that it was if Estel was some fragile thing that would shatter if handled any more roughly than that. Legolas gazed upon the distressed face of the ill man, barely pushing his fingertips into the flushed, moist flesh of Estel's cheek. The ranger breathed in sharply at his friend's ministrations, feeling even in his fever the every gossamer touch of Legolas' fingertips, pale and velvet skin upon his own rough and worn. The Elf's ever fingertip was imprinted into his soul, cooling his face and yet radiating love. The tears were pooling in the blonde's boundless, azure eyes, and he let out a breath he had been holding as his lips trembled. Legolas slowly sunk down to lie on the ranger's chest, weeping soundlessly and still in the silent tension that filled the room.  
  
In the shadows of the doorway, Glorfindel watched the archer motionlessly. His own eyes glimmered as he witnessed the scene. It reminded him so much of Elrond and himself. He loved the lord of Imladris just as much as Legolas loved Estel, and many a time before has the Balrog-slayer been brought to despair over his best friend, Elrond Peredhel. He knew all too well the turmoil in which his other beloved young friend, Legolas, suffered. And he knew the way his godson Estel struggled for his young life. And also in his knowledge were the twins, who slept a restless sleep in next room, in anguish for their little brother. He knew the way Elladan cradled Elrohir in his arms, hushing his twin's sobs through his own tears, as the two lay there in bed with their only solace being each other's embrace. But most of all, he knew that Elrond Peredhel, his soul mate friend, sat in the library in silent turmoil, refusing sleep and praying to Blessed Elbereth that he did not lose his mortal son. For the sake of them all, Lord Glorfindel hoped Estel's fever broke by morning. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: All right, I had no intention of continuing this, it was just a little plot bunny but I decided to give it a chapter 2.don't expect anymore, though. I just had the image of Legolas and Aragorn in the snow fixed in my mind and still do..Ah, if only u could see it the way I do..Heart wrenching.Especially the way Legolas is slumped over weeping with his head on Aragorn's shoulder. I would draw it if I could get it right, but it has a certain flow to it, u know? Anyway..here u go:  
  
~*~  
  
Part II  
  
When he awoke the next morning, pale twilight was beyond the windowpanes. After what seemed to be a hopeless struggle, his fever had broken and had finally allowed him to leave the darkness of the water's depths and break to the surface. He took a breath, inhaled sharply, as if he truly had just surfaced in water. His gray eyes lifted open heavily in his exhaustion. Sweat still dampened his face and tousled raven hair. He was tired beyond imagination and felt miserable in his illness, although the worst had passed. What surprised him was the fact that he was alone in his room. He had expected that someone would be here with him, but was proven wrong. He pushed himself up to sit in bed and looked about himself with disorientation. Everything was where it usually was, except the bowl of water and the rag on his bedside table. But wait.. There was something there that had not been there before. On the end of his bed was some sort of cloak. He reached out and grabbed it, feeling the water-soft silk it was made with. He pulled it to his lap and looked more closely at it. Then he realized. The silver cloak that glimmered and fell like cascades in his hands belonged to his best friend. To Legolas.  
  
Immediately, his eyes went wide and a fear was struck in his core. He was panicking. Deep down he knew something was wrong. Legolas would be here if no one else was. Something was wrong with the prince and already, the young ranger was in terror with the speculation of what that something might be. He bolted from his bed with unnatural speed for such a very ill mortal, flinging the door open. He fled from his room as if the very fires of Mordor pursued him, sweeping down the corridor with the Elven cloak still clutched in hand. Where was Legolas? He almost tripped over himself, as he felt light-headed and dizzy. He had no right to be out of bed in his condition, but he must find the golden-haired Elf.  
  
The Last Homely House was quiet. Everyone who resided there still slept before the dawn had arisen. If not for the fact that most of them had not slept in days because of him, they probably would have woken at his quick footsteps. But they were too deeply in sleep after refusing it for so long. He looked to every room on each side of him, but the doors were all closed. He knew that his best friend would not be in any of them. He headed for his father's library, for the Elf might be there. When he did reach the grand study that belonged to his father, he found much to his dismay that it was empty. Again, he set off, now absolutely frantic. If not for the fact he didn't want to awake anyone, he would be screaming the prince's name as he ran. Down stairs, he went hastily, looking about with darting eyes. His feet took him to wander outside, to the courtyard. It was in the middle of winter and absolutely frigid. An untainted white snow coated the ground and the bare tree limbs. It was insane that he would be out in the cold when he was so sick, but he felt a pull inside him that led him there. His every breath was white in the air as he looked for the Elf.  
  
Finally, his gray eyes fell upon the huddled form of his best friend. Legolas was on his knees, doubled over with his arms wrapped around himself. He rocked back and forth slightly, his golden hair hiding his face and pooling on the snow. He sobbed and whimpered, keeping his head bowed. Aragorn's heart broke for him then, shining so clearly in his eyes. Legolas was crying as a small child, thinking no one could hear him this early outside in the cold. The ranger bound forward and fell to his knees across from the Elf.  
  
" Legolas? What is it, mellonin? " he asked quietly as lay a hand on one of the prince's shaking shoulders. Legolas' head snapped up, and he looked into the temperate gray eyes of his best friend. His own, lovely blue were wide with fear and grief and shone with tears. He was breathing sharply and paused in disbelief. Finally, Legolas flung his lithe arms around the young man's neck, nearly pushing Aragorn back into the snow. He cried out as if in pain, yet relief at the same time. Aragorn regained his balance, before placing his seemingly stronger arms around his beloved Greenleaf's trembling form. He closed his eyes with a sigh as he the archer became limp and leaned against him. Legolas sobbed and Aragorn hushed him softly, rocking slightly back and forth whilst holding the Elf to his chest with one sturdy arm.  
  
" Estel," Legolas whimpered as he wept into the man's shoulder.  
  
" It's all right, Legolas. I'm all right," Aragorn assured, trying his best to soothe the Elf.  
  
Legolas had fled the house in his despair, being so sure that Aragorn was lost to him. Already, he had begun to cry out in the snow. Yet, here was his best friend, free from the fever and very much alive. His joy was beyond the measure of men, besides his immense relief. He had never wept in such a way before, and it frightened him to learn just how passionately emotional he was capable of being. Elves were usually so stoical.  
  
Behind the glass of the library window, Glorfindel watched the two below with a grin on his handsome face and glassy eyes. Estel was all right. Legolas would be, too, along with the twins and Elrond. He mentally thanked the Valar for that.  
  
" Glorfindel? " Elrond's tired voice uttered his name as the Lord of Imladris touched his best friend's shoulder tenderly. The Balrog-slayer snaked one arm around Elrond's waist and nudged him to stand beside him, at the window. He felt the glimmer in Elrond's eyes as they fell upon Estel and Legolas in the snow outside. The golden-haired Elf stood still beside the one with equally sleek, dark hair, there at the window.  
  
" What's going on? " Elladan's smooth voice joined them from behind. Both the elder Elves peered over their shoulders to see the eldest son of Elrond approaching, tall and lithe. He held Elrohir in his arms with ease, his twin's arms around his neck. Both were clearly weak with despair, yet as always Elladan was just a bit stronger and carried his twin through their shared strife. They joined Elrond and Glorfindel at the window, and Elladan gasped when he saw the spectacle, Legolas slumped upon Aragorn. Elrohir's eyes shone with his brother's and a tearful smile crossed his beautiful face. Elladan's face was streaked with a stray tears now, whilst Elrohir gazed at his little brother and his closest friend in great felicity. One, slender hand reached out with dainty fingers and touched the cold glass of the window where the man and archer lay below. 


End file.
